Monday, September 23, 2002

El Rancho Autumn

This does not feel like Fall. There is no Autumn out my front door. Out the back door it is even less like a crisp, brisk, golden leaf strewn season. Rather, it is hot. It is a blistery, gasping heat, with little or no breeze. There are no clouds, high or low. There is only the glare of sunlight and the sensation of peering into a toiling furnace when we open a door. It is baked dry, and hung out to dry and all dried up. We couldn't have asked for better weather. The swimming has been fantastic! We swim in the morning. We swim in the afternoon, the evening and at night. This is a very good Fall, though not like Fall at all.

Friends came to play last night. They came with pie. They came with pumpkin pie. They were most especially welcome, and we were most especially thankful. We swam, and played an inaugural game of Marco Polo. James claimed inner city hardship for his ignorance of the game. He caught on quickly. He was a good Marco and a good Polo. Max liked being Marco, and so no matter who was Marco, Max would call "Marco!" We played and swam and sat in the spa until dark. After pie dinner, Max implored Eema, and James, to come back and swim again.

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